Epilogue 2
by percabethandhg
Summary: In a sequel to Epilogue: Destiel, Dean, Cas, Joanna, and Johnny have a whole new challenge coming for them when they start being hunted by angels who don't approve of Nephilim. It's a lot harder to stand up and fight the enemy when your children are also on the front lines.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hey, ya'll. It's Alethea. I had about twenty chapters planned out for Epilogue: Destiel, but after I posted my tenth chapter of it, I got a review telling me that they really liked the ending. And that made me think that maybe it was a good place to end it. So, here's the next installment. Instead of being about just love and family and Destiel fluffiness, this is something I was inspired to write while rewatching Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets._**

 ** _Thank you, thank you, thank you, I really can't say nearly enough thank yous to the people who read my original story, and if you've come back for more Dean, Cas, Joanna, Johnny, Sam, Gabriel, and Mary, even more thank yous!_**

 ** _Oh, also, I don't know if I said this anywhere on Epilogue: Destiel, but I finally finished the season (after trying to make it last as long as humanly possible. Also, it inspired me to write a prologue to both of my Destiel stories about how Destiel got together. That one'll be up soon!), and while I am going with the whole Cas dies thing and then (SPOILERS) comes back (cause thank you, Jared), but I'm keeping Mary and Crowley alive cause I kinda like them. I'm also killing off Jack cause I don't like him. Also, this is fanfiction, and I can cut out whatever characters I want to. Does that cover all of it? I think that covers all of it._**

 ** _Ok, so without further ado, I present the next installment of the Epilogue: Destiel series!_**

Johnny is two, Joanna is six, and Cas and I are still living in the Bunker. Everything is good, and it seems like we've got our happily ever after at last, the one we all deserve so much, but nope.

It all started one day when Cas and Gabriel got home from a hunt. I was watching a sickeningly songful movie with the kids, bored out of my skull but enjoying their enjoyment of it. Cas came in, not bloodstained for once, but wearing a worried expression that I don't like the look of.

"Dean, I need to talk to you," he tells me quietly from the doorway, so I scoop Johnny up off my lap, and plop him down on the soft couch (which Mom made us buy when she moved in ten years ago), leaving him still-perplexed with the images on the screen.

"What is it, Baby?" I ask, kissing him as we shuffle behind the wall so that the kids can't see us. "You look worried."

"I am worried, Dean," he agrees solemnly. "On the hunt I was on, I ran into one of my brothers, Hesediel."

"And?" I inquire.

"And he asked me how I've been since the wedding."

I nod. "What'd you tell him?" I ask, still not understanding what's bad about any of that.

"I told him that I was fine, that you were alright. And I accidentally told him about our children." He waits anxiously for me to have an adverse reaction to this news.

I stare at him quizzically. "Why can't you tell your family about our kids? Aren't you proud of our little family?"

He nods. "Of course, Dean. But I didn't consider the consequences. Hesediel inquired as to how we adopted, and I told him we didn't. And now he's raising a task force to kill our children."

"What?" I ask, making sure to keep my voice low so Joanna, who's developed a knack for eavesdropping on grownup conversations, can't hear us. "How do you know?"

"Because that's what my brothers do." He sighs. "Do you remember Lily Sunder?"

It takes me a second to remember the hunt from so many years ago, over a decade. Before Johnny was born, before Joanna, before Cas and I got even together. A woman who knew too much about angels, and who's supposedly Nephilim child was murdered because of it.

The angels took a task force, Cas included, and marched to her house to kill her daughter. That's not going to happen to me. I'm not going to lose my child just because her father had wings.

"What do we do?" I ask.

I hear little footsteps coming up behind me and when I turn, there's Joanna. She looks so young in her blue dress and pink-ribboned pigtails. How could anyone, person, demon, angel, or anything else, want to hurt my sweet little girl? "Daddy?"

"Hi, Anna," Cas greets her as Joanna flings herself at him. "Did you miss me?"

"Soooo much, Daddy," she assures him, hugging him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"We'll continue this later," I whisper to Cas. I walk back into the dark living room where Johnny is still staring, glassy eyed, at the TV. "I think it's time for bed, Champ."

"No, no, no, no, no!" he screams, pounding my back with his fists as I throw him over my shoulder. "I'm not ready for bed, Daddy!"

"Two stories?" Cas suggests, furthering our tradition of bribing our kids whenever necessary. Joanna has started using the bribery to get things out of us, like ice cream and another movie, but Johnny isn't that smart yet, so he relents and calms down with the promise. "Let's go brush teeth."

"Daddy read me a book about angels," Joanna says, slipping her small hand into Cas' as they walk in front of Johnny and I. By the time we get to J2 (as we've taken to calling our children)'s shared bedroom, Johnny is asleep on my shoulder, and Joanna is still talking. "And we found all my aunts and uncles, and then Daddy showed me that you were in the book! There was a picture, but it didn't look like you, and they called you Cassiel, so then Daddy and I went on the computer, and we looked it up, and that's what people called you, like, a million years ago-"

"Joanna Calypso, what have we said about saying 'like'?" I admonish, switching Johnny (who I think becomes five pounds heavier after he falls asleep) to my other shoulder.

"Not to because Grandma says it doesn't sound nice," she replies automatically. Then she goes barreling on about the book on angels her Uncle Sammy left on her dresser. "I want to show you the page with Uncle Blah-Blah-Blah*."

*Of course, she doesn't actually say Uncle Blah-Blah-Blah, but unfortunately, most angel names sound the same to me. Why do they all end in iel? That's only acceptable in Castiel, which is the most perfect name ever (not to sound chick-flick-y).

I let Johnny fall off of my shoulder into his bed, tugging his werewolf (haha) sheets up around his chin. He continues sleeping peacefully.

Then Cas and I tuck Joanna into her bed, telling her, "We can read the book tomorrow, Anna. Go to sleep."

"Ok, Daddies," she says, turning on her side as she resigns to sleep. "Goodnight."

"Night," I tell her before I close the door. Then my smile melts away as I ask Cas, "Are they coming for us?"

Cas is silent for a few seconds before saying, "Yes."

I hate this feeling. This feeling of being hunted. I thought that I was finally safe with my children and my husband living in the bunker, out of harm's way. But no, and now it won't just be my brother or my mom, or the love of my life caught in the crossfires of yet another possible apocalypse. It'll be my children.

"What do we need to do to stay safe?" I ask, already prepared to do whatever it is.

"I don't know if there's any way to," he replies sadly and my heart sinks.

 _ **-What did ya think? Also, I want a better name than Epilogue 2, cause that just doesn't have the ring I want, so review with your submissions of a new name for the story!**_

 _ **Also, just review cause you like it. Review, review, review!**_


	2. Chapter 2: I'm Lazy With Names

_**Hey, ya'll! It's Alethea. I have three things I want to say.**_

 _ **1\. If you're an atheist who instead of saying 'Ohmygod' says 'Ohmypie' like Rachel and I, please review and let me know.**_

 _ **2\. I don't have so many followers for this story yet. If you like it, please, please, please review or favorite or follow, and I know I'm really not one to talk because there are plenty of stories that I absolutely loved that I didn't do any of those things on, but it makes my day and my week, and I binge on pie to celebrate. Who am I kidding, I'd binge on pie anyway, but I need a reason to justify it, right? So review, favorite, follow! Thank you in advance!**_

 _ **3\. I obviously know that Cas is going to come back in s13 (and sorry for the spoiler, but I was so thrilled when Jared let that slip), and I have a pretty concretely formed idea about how. If you'd like me to write that one, detailing how Cas comes back and then the beginning of his relationship with Dean, please review and let me know.**_

After Cas's grim prediction as to the fate of our children, we try to figure out what to do.

Maybe while the angels were grounded by Metatron, we could've gotten away with having Nephilim children. We could've stayed under the radar and been ok. But now Heaven's been taken again, and presumably the only reason we were hidden before was because we made our home in the Bunker and barely took the kids out of Lebanon.

But now that Hesediel is raising an army against us to kill our children, even the Bunker, with all it's warding, won't hide us now.

I consult Sammy for help, as well as Gabe, and my mom, and no one has any suggestions. Gabriel, for once in his extremely long life, is solemn, understanding probably more than I do just what we're up against.

"It's going to be a war," he informs us quietly. His trademark snide grin is absent, and that clues me in even more to just how serious this is. "We're fighting an army of hundreds, and it's going to be them against the seven of us. Maybe your other friends if they're willing to march to their deaths."

I realize that in the seven, he's apparently included Johnny and Joanna. "Five."

"What?"

"There are only five of us," I say louder, my mouth dry. "And there are only going to be five of us, because I'm not asking my friends to die for me."

Gabriel swallows, meeting Cas's eyes across the wooden table. "Joanna and Johnny are going to have to be in the war as well. They're who we're fighting over after all."

I prepare to laugh, sure that he must be kidding about putting my two children, both under the age of seven, on the front lines. But then I see that Cas's mouth is set in a hard line, and I realize that Gabe wasn't joking. "Absolutely not! They're kids! Even if we did put them in a fight, they wouldn't know what to do! they'd be more a liability than help."

It seems pretty obvious to me that having children on a battlefield does not seem like a good idea. How could anyone think it would be? Kids require constant attention, and mine and Cas's (especially Joanna, who's growing more opinionated and headstrong by the day) are hard enough to keep up with here in the Bunker, where they're contained. Having them in the middle of a war, dashing around while two feet above them angel blades are clashing and spells are being cast just seems idiotic for everyone involved.

It's Cas who explains, his tone morose and apologetic. "The reason the other angels are hunting our children-"

"For pie's sake, don't call it hunting," I plead. It tarnishes the word to call it 'hunting'. Hunting is good. Hunting means ridding the world of monsters that hurt people, that kill people. Hunting is a job that requires selflessness, a job that's thankless and necessary to keep humans from being murdered by vampires, werewolves, demons and the like left and right. They're not hunting my children; they're stalking them.

"The reason the other angels are coming after our children," he corrects grimly, "is because they're powerful."

I scoff before reminding him, "But they're harmless, especially for now."

He nods. "For now. But when they get older, they're going to be nuclear bombs of power. And not necessarily good power."

I wait for someone else to object to that. For my children's grandmother or uncles to say that they're well-behaved, that they're good kids, that we're raising them to have better morals than even we have (ha-ha. That's not hard, is it? One of their parents has opened Purgatory, and the other one accidentally jump-started the apocalypse. Also, we both have astronomical body counts). But no one speaks, so I have to vouch for my kids' not-waiting-to-start-apocalypse-(number whatever the fuck we're on now)-ness.

"You really think that our pigtailed little girl, is going to destroy the universe?" I ask angrily, baffled at how Cas, their _father_ who loves them just as much as I do could possibly think that. "And Johnny, far from killing all the angels in the world, probably couldn't even kill a bumblebee because he won't be able to catch one on those chubby legs."

I can tell that Cas is biting on the inside of his lower lip, a nervous habit he's developed in the years that he gradually humanized. But all he says, in a feeble attempt at humor, is, "Hopefully, Johnny won't harm any bees."

To which I respond, "Yeah, I know how much you care about bees. But you're not trying to get _them_ to fight in a war, so clearly you don't care about your kids quite so much."

Then I storm out.

It takes a few minutes through the underground corridors to reach the bedrooms, specifically the off-shooting hallway that holds three bedrooms occupied by my little family. It's about ten, so both kids are sleeping (the best part of a parent's day). I open Joanna's door first and peek in to see that after Cas and I left her to fall asleep, she apparently got a book down from her bookshelf, because a thin paperback (seriously, I have no idea how a kid with my DNA is so fucking smart. Unfortunately, she's smart enough to use it against me) in her hand.

I go in quietly and pry _Ralph S. Mouse_ from her hand, placing it on her nightstand so it'll be there when she wakes up. Then I give her a kiss on the forehead and leave, heading to Johnny's room next door.

He's asleep in a little pile, his arms under his chest and his little butt in the air.

I love them so much. And Cas does, too, I know that, and that's why it hurts so much (uch, and now I'm admitting and recognizing my feelings. Ok, moment over, back to being stoic and chick flick moment free.) that he thinks the best thing to do, the only thing that could give us even a prayer of winning the impending war, is enlisting our children as soldiers.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, and as I lean back into Cas, he lets his hands fall to my waist.

"Does Johnny count as a Nephilim?" I ask, observing my still-scrunched-up son as he sleeps happily.

"Yes, I think so," Cas says softly. "Because I used my Grace to transfer his soul to Mary. He retained some of it, which he could potentially tap into when he learns to control it."

"So we could lose both of them," I sigh sadly. There's a long pause before I say, "I'm sorry."

"I know, Dean. This is all very stressful, and you didn't mean it."

"Yeah, I definitely didn't," I promise. "I know you love them. And I love you."

"We've beat apocalypses before, and we'll see the other side of this one," Sam says, and we turn around to find that he's come up behind us. "All of us."

Pie, I hope so.

 **-Remember what I said at the beginning? No? Well, the gist of it was please, please, please review and validate the countless hours that I spend rewatching Supernatural, reading other people's fanfictions to get inspiration, and editing and reediting my Word document until the chapters are just how I want them.**

 **Any read is appreciated, but I'll like you even more if you review.**

 **Review, review, review, review, review!**


	3. Chapter 3: Notification

_**Hey, ya'll. It's Alethea.**_

 _ **I was a little disappointed that this story wasn't as popular as it's predecessor was. Still, I promise, I swear on warm cherry pie a la mode, that I will complete this story.**_

 _ **But first, I'm going to write the prequel. How did Destiel even get together in the first place? Fingers crossed that s13 will tell us, but to tide us all over till it does,**_ **Beginnings: Destiel** _ **is my take on it. Please go check it out and make sure to tell me what you think of both this story and that one.**_


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